


a heavy heart to carry

by faenova



Series: whumptober2020 prompt fills [3]
Category: AR∀GO ロンドン市警特殊犯罪捜査官 | Arago
Genre: Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Healing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:54:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26884708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faenova/pseuds/faenova
Summary: Arago heals quickly, involuntarily, and painfully.
Relationships: Arago Hunt/Seth Stringer
Series: whumptober2020 prompt fills [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1953013
Kudos: 5





	a heavy heart to carry

**Author's Note:**

> im back on my bullshit
> 
> whumptober2020 day 15, magical healing

Arago has to hold his intestines. Through the pain and fog he remembers that he has to shove them back in his torso or else his skin and muscles grow back around them and he’ll have to cut himself open all over again to put them back inside.

His skin knits together in seconds, muscles and tendons joining at little points like needles stabbing into each other, closing up like a fleshy zipper from hip to shoulder. Blood pours from his chest, running down his torso and soaking his pants and pooling around him where he’s kneeling on the busted concrete and holding himself together, literally, so his insides don’t become his outsides.

With a jolt his rib _cracks_ , and he doesn’t have to wonder long how brionac decided to heal that one-- the bone splats down into the blood pool beneath him and he immediately feels the empty space being refilled, blossoming out from the broken piece in waves of electricity that ricochet back to the rest of his skeleton. He thinks he might be screaming, but he doesn’t have the energy to do it.

“Quiet, love,” a voice says. Seth. Close-- _dangerously_ close, he’ll get burned, Arago will hurt him-- “It’s almost over.”

Something tries to come out of his mouth, but it’s not words. More blood splashes into the puddle on the floor, dripping over his chin and choking him with an iron tang, hard to breathe-- is it in his nose too?

He doesn’t know how long he spends doubled over, coughing up blood and other chunks that he knows aren’t food-- he hasn’t eaten in days-- but are probably shreds of his stomach or whatever organs got mixed up when he was gutted like a fish.

His nose is clear of blood, but now it’s filled with snot and tears run down his face freely as he gasps, finally able to breathe.

“Can you stand?” Seth asks. Still too close. A hand is on Arago’s back.

“No-- I--” He swears as some unknown body part jerks itself into place deep in his gut. “You’re touching-- nhh--”

“I’m not touching your skin or blood,” Seth reassures him. “Let’s help you stand.”

Seth is short, presents himself as diminutive and weak-- it still sometimes takes Arago off guard with how strong and firm his hands are. He feels a harsh wind at his back, but he’s kept up mostly by Seth’s hands holding him steady.

Getting back to his apartment is a blur. Before he knows it he’s stripping and stepping into the shower, and Seth is gone. When he’s done showering and puts on clean pants that were left out for him, Seth comes back and makes him sit on the edge of the tub and inspects the fresh scar on his torso with gloved hands. It cuts through the vivisection scar but just misses the starburst from when Seth blew him up from the inside out.

“Does anything feel out of place?”

Nothing more than usual. “Don’t think so.”

“Give me your hands, then. You missed some blood.” Seth produces a washcloth from... somewhere. He takes Arago’s hands in his, cleaning the blood that got caught underneath his nails. The washcloth doesn’t hurt-- it’s welcome, any touch is always welcome, but it’s hard to be comforted right now when his skin is still on fire, hot needles stabbing him from the inside out and his bones aching and his chest burning.

But he always feels like that now. Most of the time. Good days are rare.

“How are you feeling?”

“Ow.”

“Mm. About as good as we’ll get.” Seth puts the washcloth in the sink, takes the plastic gloves off his hands, tosses them in the rubbish bin. There are bandages on his hands. “You said you didn’t touch my blood,” Arago frowns.

“You wouldn’t have let me help if I’d said otherwise.”

Arago gives Seth a disappointed look. Or, he hopes he does. His facial expressions are hit and miss, but that’s what auras are for.

Seth doesn’t even bother turning around to give him an expression in response. His aura lashes out in the mental equivalent of a smack on the back of the hand. Arago nearly falls over, feeling dizzy.

“Come on, let’s get you in bed.”

Arago nods, lets himself be manhandled by Seth until he’s fallen facedown on the mattress, not even trying to move the sheets before he gets in bed. He doesn’t want to be under the sheets anyway-- just laying on the bed, this much contact with anything makes him itch, burn, he wants to crawl out of his skin and let his bones fall in a heap on the floor.

“Thanks,” Arago mumbles into his pillow.

“Mhm.” The bed dips, Seth sitting close, his bandaged hand just next to Arago’s, but not touching. “Do you need anything else?”

He can’t think of anything. Seth has already done so much today. He does so much all the time. Arago is so much more than one person deserves to deal with. But Seth pulls his weight and Arago’s too, somehow. Even if he could think of something he needs-- wants-- Seth doesn’t need any more work. “...Love you.”

“I love you too,” Seth responds, just as quiet. He brushes his hand, a bandaged part, against Arago’s. Doesn’t hold it. “Sleep if you can.”

Arago nods, letting his pinky brush over the back of Seth’s hand, where it’s safe. “Love you,” he says again, just before drifting off.


End file.
